Watches Sam fail to learn the lesson Dad is teaching. It’s the simplicity of it that’s tripping him up: flick the safety on immediately after firing your weapon. It’s a habit he will later have to un-learn, but for now, he’s just twelve, and that means you flick that damn safety on before you shoot anyone by damn accident.
After the fourth time Sam swings the barrel of the gun down without flicking the damn safety on first, John loses his shit. Fires his own gun once, twice, three times into the dirt at Sam’s feet. “This what you want Sammy? (Bam!) Shoot your own goddamned foot off? (Bam!) Or Dean’s? (Bam!Dean watches Sam flinch in synch with the little storms of dirt that kick up in front of him. Watches the heat of shame creep over Sam’s face. Watches his lip tremble, but his jaw set in sullen defiance
( ... )
Sam sucks in a breath when Dean runs the barrel of the Taurus along the line of Sam’s jaw. “What do you want me to do, Sam?” he whispers into Sam’s ear
( ... )
I LOVE THIS. The gunplay (and the bonus hint of knifeplay!) was hot, but what really made it for me was the trust in the fic, and Dean being all big-brother like!
Boyyyzzz!! I love how that was a whole story mixed with the (very hot) porn. The gun stuff doesn't do a thing for me but the way you've written the unashamed lust between them, well that certainly does!
Thanks! I do not understand my gun kink at all. I HATE guns. I did the Million Mom March in Washington DC for crying out loud. Who the heck knows how these kinks work in our brains??
I totally get what you mean. The id wants what it wants, but we -- as complicated creatures not defined by our instincts but by our choices -- can understand and digest that what tickles our fancy isn't always kind or smart or applicable to daily life.
Oh my god *whimpers* SOOOOO MUCH UNF!! such a ridiculously perfect fill, LOVED the sexual tension, LOVED Dean firing that gun...jfc...LOVED every single thing really. The trust here was beautiful. ♥
HNNNNNGGGG and UNNFFFFF. Yes. It's this bit: Dean drops the gun so it lays along the inside of Sam’s thigh, then starts edging it up and all the rest of it, if I'm being honest--all the trust and want and pure unabashed need, and Dean being in utter and complete control, and the promise of knifeplay to come. I mean, really. What more could a person ask for? Thanks so much, J! This rocks so hard. ♥!
Dean watches.
Watches Sam fail to learn the lesson Dad is teaching. It’s the simplicity of it that’s tripping him up: flick the safety on immediately after firing your weapon. It’s a habit he will later have to un-learn, but for now, he’s just twelve, and that means you flick that damn safety on before you shoot anyone by damn accident.
After the fourth time Sam swings the barrel of the gun down without flicking the damn safety on first, John loses his shit. Fires his own gun once, twice, three times into the dirt at Sam’s feet. “This what you want Sammy? (Bam!) Shoot your own goddamned foot off? (Bam!) Or Dean’s? (Bam!Dean watches Sam flinch in synch with the little storms of dirt that kick up in front of him. Watches the heat of shame creep over Sam’s face. Watches his lip tremble, but his jaw set in sullen defiance ( ... )
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I also like how you've written John here.
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Which is where fanfic and erotica comes in. :D
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